


A Very Real Ghost

by crescent_gaia



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Minor Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:17:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescent_gaia/pseuds/crescent_gaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Halloween and someone's haunting John.  :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Real Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own Sherlock and characters and all that stuff. It took a while to finish this because of reasons, so it's a bit later than Halloween. Sorry about that. :)
> 
> Also, set after the fall and all, in case the title doesn't make that clear. The first paragraph does, but fair warning, last chance to turn back and everything else.

There was one night a year that John Watson would get completely shit-faced. Normally, people would think it would be the anniversary of the jump or Sherlock’s birthday. No, the day that John Watson got completely and utterly drunk was Halloween. This wasn’t even something that happened only after Sherlock left him in such a Sherlockian way. No, he had always been doing this because he believed it was the one time during the year that he would be able to talk with all of his ghosts. It was easier that way to ask forgiveness of his army buddies that died when he survived. 

But, ever since the jump, the ghosts that came started to feel more real. None were more real than Sherlock, who never had answers for him. The first year – the year it hurt the most – there were comforting words and just a long a hug. A hug that felt better than anything else in the world and clothes that smelled like Sherlock. Plus a black scarf that just appeared out of the clear blue sky when John thought he packed everything away. That scarf became part of his wardrobe, but nobody questioned it. If anything, Lestrade smiled at it and John felt a bit better. Better enough to let Lestrade start to help mend everything between him and Mycroft.

The second year was completely different. For one, Lestrade got shot and John was holding his breath in the waiting room. He felt like he needed a drink ever since he saw Sally walk in. He fiddled with his phone for a moment, before lifting his head and asking “why are you here?”

“Nobody else was going to come,” Sally replied. She moved over to sit across from John. “I need to ask you something.”

John clenched his fist. “What?” he asked.

“The bullet didn’t come from the suspect we were chasing. He was unarmed, Lestrade knew it, and made sure to stay in front of the suspect so we wouldn’t kill him. Have you gotten any threats lately?”

John shook his head no.

“Any odd phone calls? People calling and hanging up?” 

“Yeah,” John said. “Always a different number. I had Mycroft trace it and nothing came of it. Turns out that my phone number is one or two digits off of a popular number or something like that.”

“Mycroft?” 

“Mycroft Holmes,” the owner of the name said from behind Sally. “John, a moment?”

John got up, grateful to get away from Sally, and went a bit away with Mycroft. “They haven’t told me anything.”

“Yes, but they were willing to tell me everything,” Mycroft said as they walked down the hallway. “Left shoulder – he’s going to be fine, it just hit muscle. He’s going to be cranky for a while, until he can leave – “

“I can be cranky when I get home too,” Lestrade said for them to hear it.

John turned and went into Lestrade’s room. “What a way to spend Halloween, right?”

“All the crazies come out then,” Lestrade said. “Be careful out there for me, alright? Or, better yet, skip this year.”

“Skip it?”

“Yeah,” Lestrade said. “I’ve had a bad feeling since I woke up this morning that something’s going to happen. Since I’ve missed being killed and Mycroft’s security has gone up by the power of a million, it might be you. So, do me a favor and stay in. I don’t want to have to go to your funeral too.”

John nodded. “Okay.”

Lestrade squeezed his hand comfortingly. “Be safe.”

“You too,” John said and left the room. He looked around for Mycroft and saw Anthea. “Got pulled away?”

“Phone call,” Anthea said. “I’m to take you home. He said you’re allowed to raid the car for anything you need.”

“Great,” John said and went with her. He was quiet on the way home, grateful that Anthea was being herself and working on her phone, and took the large unopened bottle of scotch. “Thanks for the ride,” he said and made his way upstairs. After putting things away, he nearly went downstairs before remembering that Mrs. Hudson was away at her sister’s. “No sense in waiting,” he said as he started up the DVD player with a horror movie and opened a beer. He made quick work of the beer that was in the flat before moving onto scotch. It took a bit of those before he lay down on the couch and heard a scratch at the flat door. “It’s open,” he called out in a slurred voice.

Which is when the first ghost of the evening came into the room. Sherlock, in his usual coat and suit, but no scarf at the moment. He looked around and wrinkled his nose at the flat. “There is no reason for the flat to be this organized.”

John couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You’re not here anymore. It can be organized as much or as little as I like.”

“Hrm,” Sherlock said as he walked over to the couch. He picked up the glass and finished off the small bit of scotch that was left. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“Bedroom,” Sherlock said as he leaned down to help John up.

“Can’t make it up the stairs.”

“Which is why we’re going to my room,” Sherlock said.

John froze. “No.”

Sherlock sighed. “You said that you can’t get up the stairs. You can’t stay on the couch – there’s a madman on the loose – so my bedroom is the best idea.”

“Madman sniper. Means I could join you in the ghost world. Wouldn’t be that bad, dying, you did it easily enough. Be breaking the promise to Lestrade though.” He sighed for a moment before he felt himself being picked up. “Hey!”

“You’re not dying, John Watson, and if I hear you even thinking about it again, I’ll haunt you for real.” Sherlock held John close to him, carrying him over to his bedroom and kicking the door open. “Good that you left this alone.” He carried John over to the bed before putting him down on it, then taking off his coat, throwing it on a chair.

“This is more comfortable,” John admitted as he situated himself on the bed before looking up at Sherlock. “I miss you so much, it’s insane.”

“I know,” is all Sherlock said before he moved over to the bed. He straddled John before reaching down and kissing John passionately. He wasn’t all that surprised when John started to kiss him back; what surprised him was when he grinded his hips against John’s that John grinded back. It made him moan into the kiss before gently breaking for air and kissing down John’s neck to his shoulder. “Too many clothes.”

“I can agree with that,” John said as his sweater and shirt were pulled off of him. He reached up, unbuttoning Sherlock’s shirt and throwing it over to the pile of clothing on the floor, before running his hand down Sherlock’s chest. “Beautiful,” he whispered.

“As are you,” Sherlock whispered before starting to kiss down John’s chest.

John laughed at that. “I’m not.”

“We can argue about this at a different time,” Sherlock said as he undid John’s trousers, pulling them and the pants off. “I – I have a confession to make.”

“I know you’re a virgin.”

Sherlock smiled. “Not that. I’ve wanted to fuck you since I met you. I hid, just as you did, but I thought you would catch on sooner or later. I wanted you to figure it out.”

“I did. I just figured it out too late.” John looked up at him. “Don’t be dead,” he whispered and blinked away tears. “Don’t be a ghost. Don’t let this be just one night. Please Sherlock. Do that for me. I won’t be angry – well, no, I’ll probably want to punch you at least once – but you can’t be dead. You took my heart with you that day. Give it back.”

Sherlock moved up and kissed John’s lips again. This time, it was slower and he pushed all of the love that he had for John into it. “We just exchanged hearts,” he whispered. “I have yours and you have mine.”

“Then make it a very good fuck, Sherlock,” John said. “Make me believe it’s really you and not a dream with a ghost.”

Sherlock smiled and kissed his way back down John’s body. He kissed the base of John’s cock before kissing the tip, but that’s all he did. He lifted John’s hips a bit and opened his legs. He moved his head down and ran his tongue on the rim of John’s asshole. He felt John tense and he waited for John to relax before doing the motion again. When he heard John moan, he did it a bit more before moving his head back and licking his fingers. He slowly inserted a finger, stretching John a bit as he started to move his finger in and out. He soon inserted another finger, stretching John more as he did so. 

“Sherlock,” John moaned as his hands clutched at the cover. “Please – I need you in me. Please.”

That was enough for Sherlock to quickly shed his trousers and pants. He reached up to a nightstand, opening the drawer and grabbing a bottle of lube. He opened it, slicking up his fingers and thrusting them hard into John. He was only able to do that for a few moments before using the lube on his dick and thrusting into John. 

“Fuck!” John wrapped his legs around Sherlock as his hands went up to rest on Sherlock’s chest.

“Mine,” Sherlock growled. He started to thrust in and out of John, not being careful or gentle in his movements. He felt John pushing at his chest and moved the hands off of him. He pinned John’s wrists above John’s head as he started to go in and out harder. He felt John struggling a bit, even though John was keeping up with his thrusts. “Keep there,” he commanded as he moved his hands down to the bed.

“Sherlock, I – I can’t keep this up,” John said and kept his hands where Sherlock was once pinning him.

Sherlock leaned down, nipping at John’s shoulder wound as he heard the man below him yelp in pain. He pulled out for a moment, turning John on his stomach, before thrusting in again. He started to pound in and out of John, reaching beneath John to start to play with John’s cock. He fiddled with the tip before taking the full length of John’s cock in his hand. He pumped John’s cock with the same rhythm he was going in and out with. “John – I – I’m going to – “

“Just don’t stop. Do not stop. I’ll kill you if you stop,” John said. 

Sherlock kept up the rhythm a bit longer before he pushed all the way and started to cum. He smirked as he heard John cry out his name as John climaxed into his hand. He kissed John’s shoulder before slowly pulling out. “Sleep love,” he whispered but knew he didn’t need the command as John was asleep. He cleaned John up before putting a blanket over John and then cleaning himself up. He found his phone, texting Mycroft.

_No longer a ghost. Start protocol to bring me back – SH._

_I did that when you first stepped into London tonight – MH._

“Bastard,” Sherlock said and watched John sleep. He couldn’t wait for the argument that would come in the morning. He also couldn’t wait to see if John would punch him or not – he hoped not – but he would take the punch if John wanted to punch him. Either way, being back at Baker Street and finally being with the man he loved was enough. If it was only for one night, he would cherish the night for the rest of his life. But, deep inside, he hoped that it would be more than just tonight. _Who knew that sentiment would be the best thing to happen to me?_ he thought as he went into deep meditation in his mind palace.


End file.
